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“Right. What a waste of your precious time,” I mutter. “Only you were bored to death whenever your mother left you at the Church to go to work and had nothing to do except play with me, and you thinkIshould be grateful?”
Ophelia is regaining her composure. A lazy smile pulls at her lips. “You should.”
“What work did your mother do, anyway? Was the shop a front? Did she sell potions and spells?”
“None of your business, Foundling.”
“You weren’t there when your aunt and uncle supposedly found me. Didn’t see it happen.”
“Of course not. We’re roughly the same age. I was practically a baby, too. How could I remember?”
“See?”
Her eyes narrow. “What I see is that you want so hard to belong, poppet, that you’ve made up a story in your head. But it’s all in your mind. You want to be part of a real family, not be the unwanted baby abandoned by a junkie mother. Tough. It’s who you are. A nobody without a family name, without any power.”
“If you don’t believe that I have magic, how do you explain my resistance to your enchantment?” I ask her.
“I’m tired today. Didn’t put enough force behind the magic.”
“Now who’s making up stories?” I get up, because it looks like Ophelia won’t even consider the possibility of me being related to her. “Just one more thing. How did you weave the enchantment?”
I don’t expect her to tell me, but to my surprise, she sits up and says, “It’s part of the Queen Witch’s powers.”
“You really think you are this Queen.”
“Iam. All my life I’ve known it. My mother taught me to control my magic, weave the nets. A Queen is a weaver, a spider in her web.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’ve always felt as if we were caught in a ghostly spider’s net.
“So you see why you have to leave the boys to me,” she says, back to being smug and haughty. “I’m the only one who can deal with those pesky magical surges anyway. I can take away these boys’ pain.”
“And harm them in a different way? What will happen if you take too much of their magic?”
She shrugs. “Nothing comes from nothing. Power demands sacrifices. Their essence is needed for the cause.”
“Your selfish, personal cause could get them seriously hurt.” I’m on my feet, hands clenched. “They are people with feelings, interests, with families and friends and a life to live. They don’t owe you anything.”
“The whole world owes me,” Ophelia says. “I’m its new Queen.”
And worst of all, I bet she believes it.
17
MIA
“So you think you may be a true Apollinari after all?” Sindri says.
I met Ashton and Sindri at the refectory where we picked sandwiches and retreated to the lakeshore to eat them. We found a bench and Sindri is sitting precariously on top of the backrest, while Ashton is sitting properly but staring at the placid water of the lake as if it’s holding answers to the questions of the universe.
“I wish I knew.” I sit down beside Sindri, perching on the narrow wooden bars. He puts an arm around my back. “I went to find Ophelia, convinced I was right, but she was certain I’m not, and that sort of made me doubt again. I mean… I look like her, don’t I?”
“Superficially yes. Dark hair, dark eyes, similar heights, generally similar body types.”
“Formless body types?” I mutter.
“On the contrary.” His dark lashes lower. “Curvy body types.”
“You noticed her body.” I can’t help the sting in my chest at the thought of him checking her out.
